


If You Leave Me (Can I Come Too?)

by surgicalfocus



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surgicalfocus/pseuds/surgicalfocus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After discovering that Chanyeol still hasn’t told his mother they’re dating, Baekhyun decides to break off their relationship and moves out of their shared apartment. Plagued by heartbreak-induced sleep disturbances, Chanyeol soon finds himself waking up in places where he and Baekhyun shared memories together, with no recollection of how he got there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Leave Me (Can I Come Too?)

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a while ago, I'm just in the process of cross-posting some of my fics over to AO3, haha. I know it sounds a little angsty from the description but there is a happy ending. Enjoy xx

 

 

**Fic Playlist:**

  * [If You Leave Me, Can I Come Too? - Mental As Anything](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwekweCZZ0w)


  * [Take Your Mama - Scissor Sisters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=od7-fyGa9DQ)


  * [Too Many Times - Mental As Anything](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bC3ppyJgSk)


  * [If You Leave Me Now - Chicago](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVMl3iiK3hs)


  * [One Step Ahead - Split Enz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzcBqkNWPbk)


  * [It's All Been Done - Barenaked Ladies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zs3xXlXSOKk)


  * [History Never Repeats - Split Enz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TvBVcLMkhFE)


  * [Things I Will Keep - Guided By Voices](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3K9CFMhymY)



 

 

 

Chanyeol wasn’t quite sure how to tell his mother that she’d ruined his life. It was a heavy load to dump on one person’s shoulders, but it was true.  _You are responsible for the irreversible mess I am in right now_ , he would have told her if she were still standing in front of him, but how do you break something like that to your own mum? Do you take her out for a drink or two beforehand and sandwich the unpleasant delivery between two compliments, just to soften the blow a little?  _Hey ma, your hair looks lovely tonight, you’ve fucking ruined my life, by the way have you lost weight..?_  
  
His mother did like a stiff drink… so maybe he’d go with that approach. Then when she was nice and hammered he’d tell her  _you can never, ever visit me, ever again_ , in the gentlest way possible.  
  
_You are banned for life, woman_ , he’d say.  _From now on, all our interactions are confined to days of obligation: Christmas, Mother’s Day and birthdays. And I’ll still call you once a week to tell you my life is going better than it actually is, but everything else is off the damn table._  
  
The only flaw in this otherwise brilliant plan was that if he told his mother that she had ruined his life, then he would also have to tell her why.  
  
But then, it wasn’t entirely Mrs. Park’s fault. A large part of it  _was_  her fault – but it was also his own fault too, in a way, for being a ‘horrible, shitty lying piece of shit’, as Baekhyun had called him during that fit of passionate, violent rage that seemed like it was never going to end. Thankfully he’d had the good sense to wait until Chanyeol’s mother had gone home before he let fly, which sort of meant he was in on the lie too, but Chanyeol had thought it best not to point this out – the timing just didn’t seem right.  
  
Also, between all the wailing and yelling, he couldn’t really get a word in.  
  
Anyway, as guilty as Chanyeol’s mother was in this situation, it didn’t change the fact that he drove the last nail into the coffin of their now deceased relationship himself, and he did it by uttering the most deplorable, regretful sentence of his entire life: “this is Baekhyun; my roommate.”  
  
His  _roommate_. Fucking hell, what was he thinking..? But he hadn’t expected his mother to show up on his doorstep at 11am on a sunny Saturday, with a box of his favourite chocolates tucked under her arm – there was no courtesy call beforehand to warn him that she was visiting. Chanyeol had chosen to live and work far away from his hometown specifically for the purpose of discouraging such spontaneity; it was always him who went to visit her, and that had always suited them both just fine, until now. He usually drove down to see her once a month, which occasionally provoked a twinge of guilt – she’d raised him alone, after all, and he was all she had – but keeping his private life private was more of a priority.  
  
So why did she have to go and topple everything he’d carefully put together with one ill-timed surprise visit? Why did he let those awful, cringe-worthy words escape his lips for her benefit?  
  
“Your  _roommate?_ ” Baekhyun yelled, loudly enough to give their neighbours cause for complaint. They’d just returned from an excruciatingly leisurely lunch at the café on the ground floor – a desperate suggestion on Chanyeol’s part, for he wanted to lure his mother away from the apartment, lest she begin poking around as mothers sometimes like to do. If she did, she was bound to happen upon some indicators of the true nature of their relationship – the presence of only one bed, for example, or the sexy things on the nightstand, or the toothbrushes leaning against each other (in a more-than-friendly way) in the same cup next to the sink. The place was a minefield of incriminating evidence; he had to get her out of there as quickly as possible.  
  
During the meal, Baekhyun had made polite conversation with Mrs. Park as if nothing was wrong, with many a filthy look being subtly thrown in Chanyeol’s direction over the rim of his wine glass. Chanyeol could already tell at the time that he was storing up his anger for when they got home. As it turned out, he was right.  
  
“I’ve been pestering you for  _months_  to take me to meet her, just once," Baekhyun said, "and all this time, she never even knew I _existed_..”  
  
“I kinda haven’t told her I’m gay…” was Chanyeol’s feeble response, but Baekhyun wouldn’t have a bar of it. And then the unforgettable ‘horrible, shitty lying piece of shit’ line was delivered, shortly before the moving, heated final act. This mainly involved an increasingly incensed Baekhyun grabbing anything that wasn’t bolted down and throwing it onto the floor, before storming offstage to the bathroom and remaining locked therein for nearly three hours – which was a little inconsiderate, to be fair, given that there were no other toilets in the apartment. Chanyeol ended up having to pee in one of the pot-plants in the living room – only after returning it to its proper upright position and scooping all the soil back in, of course. The pot-plant was just one of the many victims of Baekhyun’s wrath that day.  
  
It was after dark when Baekhyun finally emerged from the bathroom, his face tear-streaked and puffy, and it was only then that Chanyeol started to feel really bad.  
  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” Baekhyun said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He avoided Chanyeol’s gaze as he said it. “I don’t think it’s working anymore.”  
  
Chanyeol stared at him blankly. “Are you breaking up with me..?”  
  
“We’re just… it’s obvious that we’re not on the same level, Chanyeol. I don’t want to waste my time with someone who doesn’t take me –  _us_ , as a couple – seriously.”  
  
“But… I do take us seriously..”  
  
“As evidenced by the fact that you referred to me as your  _roommate_  in front of one of the few people who actually matter to you,” Baekhyun replied coldly, still sniffling.  
  
Chanyeol couldn’t argue with this, so he said nothing. He simply watched in helpless silence from where he stood, leaning against the doorframe, while Baekhyun pottered around their bedroom, carefully selecting items of necessity and then, to be contrary, angrily jamming and throwing and stuffing them into a travel bag. Chanyeol had never seen him like that. Baekhyun usually held himself together so well, but the way he stared into the gaping, zipper-toothed mouth of the bag with those blank, faraway eyes was a sure sign that the man Chanyeol knew and loved was lost to him – perhaps forever. And he wanted nothing more than to grab Baekhyun and hold him until he stopped trembling; to kiss the furrows out of his brow, and the frown away from his lips… but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even muster up the guts to ask where Baekhyun was going, in case it was somewhere too far away for him to fathom.  
  
But it came out eventually in a frightened whisper, because he had to know… he just had to. “Where are you going..?”  
  
Baekhyun shrugged; by now he seemed more resigned than angry. “Maybe to Kyungsoo's for a while… just until I figure some things out. I'll be back later to collect some more stuff.”  
  
“Okay,” Chanyeol said quietly. There wasn’t really anything else to say... at least until Baekhyun was halfway through the front door, overstuffed bag in hand, and then the words came tumbling out of their own accord.  
  
“Don't go, please. I love you.”  
  
Baekhyun turned back to look at him, and Chanyeol could see he was wavering, if only slightly.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Chanyeol whispered. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Baekhyun shook his head. “Not as sorry as I am,” he said quietly, and the door clicked shut behind him.  
  
  
  


 

* * * * *

  
  
  
Silence could be horrifically loud, as Chanyeol discovered that night; he feverishly tossed and turned to the sound of it until morning. It was the first time in a long time that he’d spent the night alone, and for all his rolling around, he had no luck in warming up that big bed all by himself.  
  
At long last he fell asleep, soothed by the familiar, reassuring scent of one of Baekhyun's old t-shirts, which he’d wrapped around his pillow. And then he woke up again, pulled violently back into consciousness, with the memory of what had happened crashing down upon him mercilessly. He wanted to seek refuge in sleep again, but sleep wouldn’t come; it slowly ebbed away until all that remained was that horrid feeling of being simultaneously wide-awake and exhausted.  
  
After a while Chanyeol got up and stood there, staring at their empty bed, with its twisted, tortured landscape of sheets and blankets. Just looking at the bed stirred a multitude of memories. Their last kiss was shared yesterday morning beneath those very covers, mere hours before his mother had arrived on their doorstep, bringing the house down around them when she left.  
  
Chanyeol could recall that last kiss in greater detail than he wanted to. He remembered that it felt much the same as their first kiss – slow and gentle, with wandering hands and curious lips, the best kind of kiss. It was cruel that history had a habit of repeating itself in such unassuming yet unexpectedly meaningful ways. Baekhyun had smelled the same yesterday as he did that day, the clean scent of soap lingering on his skin. Chanyeol remembered thinking it at the time, even in the fuzzy state between asleep and awake, just how strong the feeling of déjà vu was.  
  
He lifted his fingers to his lips, tracing around them before pulling his hand away, as though touching something unbearably hot. It was a comfortable kind of kiss. Yes… comfortable.  
  
They had reached that point in their relationship where they were comfortable – or at least, Chanyeol had been comfortable. He couldn’t speak for Baekhyun… but he thought they were good. Surely they were. And then all of a sudden he was thrust into a world where Baekhyun wanted to be as far away from him as possible; where kisses and companionship and comfort didn’t exist.  
  
Where had Baekhyun really slept last night, he wondered.  
  
Chanyeol collapsed onto the bed and buried his head in his hands. Apart from Baekhyun himself – his physical being, his presence, his smell, the sound of his voice, and other things like that – the kissing was probably the thing he would miss the most. Chanyeol had never met anyone else who loved kissing quite as much as Baekhyun did; he even did it in his sleep, occasionally waking Chanyeol up with kisses on his neck, trailing lazily over his jawline and across to the corners of his lips. Chanyeol was never one to refuse; he’d always pull Baekhyun on top of him and give him as many kisses as it took until he was satisfied.  
  
Chanyeol especially loved kissing Baekhyun during those midnight hours. There was a combination of things that made it wonderful: the sleepy urgency, and the fact that Baekhyun seemed completely uninhibited under the cover of darkness… less restrained in his affections. Sometimes it led to more, sometimes it didn't, but Chanyeol never felt cheated when it didn't; just kissing Baekhyun was pleasure enough.  
  
There were times when they'd kiss for so long that the sun would be peeking through the blinds before they stopped. But that wouldn't be happening anymore.  
  
In fact, there were a lot of things that wouldn’t be happening anymore, like the sound of Baekhyun working the coffee machine in the morning, which usually woke Chanyeol up before his alarm did. There would be no one to fight over the bathroom with. No one to walk to the subway with. No one to kiss goodbye before they each went their separate ways for the day, and no one to kiss hello when they returned home again.  
  
There would be no one to go on morning jogs with – they hadn’t done that in a while, but still. Now that it seemed like it might never happen again, Chanyeol realised he missed the forgotten ritual terribly.  
  
And what was he going to do today? Sunday was their special day together… he’d have to spend it alone. The thought of an entirely empty day without someone to share it with seemed frightening somehow, and he longed for it to fly by so that he’d be saved by weekday distractions as soon as possible.  
  
There would be a lot of new things to get used to – a lot of changes – and none of them could possibly be any good.  
  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
By Monday morning Chanyeol’s sleep debt had caught up with him, and he ended up wandering into the office an hour later than he should have, wearing Friday’s crumpled suit and muttering excuses under his breath that no one seemed to pay any mind to.  
  
“What’s wrong with you?” Jongdae whispered to him, popping his head up over the cubicle wall. “You look like shit..”  
  
“Well, Baekhyun and I, we kinda… split up.” It sounded weird, saying it aloud… sort of like it made it even more of a reality. As it was, the whole situation was already far too real for him to cope with.  
  
Jongdae rolled his eyes. “Is that all? Baekhyun ‘breaking up’ with you is a bimonthly event, Chanyeol. You know he’ll forgive you by tomorrow.”  
  
Chanyeol shook his head. “Nah… this time it’s, like, the real deal. He’s moved out.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongdae replied, his voice trailing off into awkward silence. “Damn.”  
  
“Yep,” Chanyeol sighed. “Damn indeed..”  
  
“Did he say why..?”  
  
“Well, long story short, my mother still doesn’t know I’m gay…” Chanyeol said quietly. “And then she came over on the weekend without warning, and I panicked. So I, uh… introduced Baekhyun to her as my roommate.”  
  
Jongdae shook his head in disbelief. “Wow. You done fucked up, man. Seriously. Congrats on your stupidity.”  
  
“Thanks… I think.”  
  
“Well, maybe it’s not too late... has he taken all his stuff?”  
  
“Nah,” Chanyeol replied, shaking his head. “Just the essentials. But he said he’d be back to pick it all up.”  
  
Jongdae’s expression softened. “Well, keep your chin up, stupid. I’m sure things will work out. And if not, well… maybe this will be a good thing for you, in the long run. When one door closes, another one opens, right..?”  
  
Chanyeol nodded. He knew his friend was merely quoting from the collection of motivational posters tacked up on the walls of his cubicle; Jongdae was an aggressive optimist, and believed there was no hole so deep that you couldn’t dig yourself out of it. As clichéd as those words were, Chanyeol was grateful for the encouragement, and even found himself brightening up a little by mid-morning… but by the end of the day he had wilted completely, and wanted nothing more than to go home, roll into bed and possibly cry himself to sleep.  
  
Jongdae, it seemed, had other plans for him.  
  
“So what stage of grief are you at right now?” he asked while they were walking to the subway together, and Chanyeol shrugged.  
  
“At the moment, I’d say somewhere between denial and anger.”  
  
“Well, why don’t I take you out for a drink? Or fifty. We can push you right past anger and straight on to memory loss.”  
  
Chanyeol couldn’t help laughing at the idea. “On a Monday night..? You must be joking.”  
  
Jongdae’s expression suggested that he was deadly serious, which was a little worrying. “Now that you’re a free man again, who’s to say you can’t have a night out on the town?”  
  
“I really don’t think that will help..” Chanyeol replied hesitantly, but Jongdae’s hand had already clamped itself around his wrist. There was no way he was getting out of this one, he could already tell.  
  
“Come on,” Jongdae insisted, pulling Chanyeol back in the opposite direction. “I know you’re hurting right now, but it could always, _always_  be worse. I mean, you could accidentally stab yourself with a chicken bone and get septicemia and die – I read about it happening to some guy once.  _That's_  what I call unlucky.”  
  
“Uh… I suppose,” Chanyeol replied absently. He was too preoccupied with trying not to bump into other people to pay much attention.  
  
“See? All you need is a bit of perspective,” Jongdae piped up cheerily. He came to a halt outside a suitably seedy-looking bar and pushed Chanyeol through the door. “And be forewarned – I’m not letting you go home tonight until you're completely off your tits.”  
  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
Jongdae was a man of his word; it was safe to say that Chanyeol had never been so off his tits in his life, which was no easy task given that he didn’t have any.  
  
By 11pm, he already felt a lot better about his situation. Maybe it was the bad ‘80s music… or perhaps the eleven piña coladas had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the simple fact that Jongdae was right, as much as someone like Jongdae  _could_  be right – a change of scenery couldn’t be all bad. Chanyeol could even get used to it, having all that space to himself; there were cons to being alone, for sure, but there were also many pros. There would be no one to order him around anymore… no one to hog the TV or the bathroom, or kick him in his sleep, or tell him that Froot Loops weren’t an acceptable dinner option, despite Chanyeol’s untenable assertion that his daily five fruit and veg were represented by each different colour. But then the booze really began to kick in, and it appeared that Jongdae had forgotten one vital piece of information since they’d last hit the town together: that Chanyeol could be an incredibly depressed drunk. And naturally, looking at his problems with double vision meant that there suddenly seemed to be twice as many as there were before.  
  
Chanyeol spent the rest of the night (what he could remember of it) hunched over on the grimy floor of a bathroom stall, alternately sobbing and puking his guts out while Jongdae sighed heavily and rubbed his back in a feeble attempt at consolation. He couldn’t recall what happened after that. At some point there came a period of blissful unconsciousness, where sleep cradled him gently and showed him a few hours of unexpected mercy; in his dreams, Baekhyun was still lying next to him, sleeping soundly with his arms wrapped around Chanyeol’s waist, as he usually did.  
  
Then sleep dumped him unceremoniously into the cold, brittle arms of early morning; it sent Chanyeol over the edge of the bed, the sheets still tangled in a rough-and-ready noose around his neck. He opened his eyes to an absence so real he could feel the weight of it on his chest, crushing him hard against the wooden floor, and his head throbbed so violently that he couldn’t bring himself to move for a further half hour.  
  
As soon as he could summon the strength to get up, Chanyeol called in sick and crawled back into bed, still wearing Friday’s suit – which had just become Tuesday’s suit, and, let’s face it, in all probability would also be Wednesday’s. He figured he could be excused for a day, given that he was heartbroken, hungover and thus of no real use to anyone.  
  
At midday he got up, showered and put on some fresh clothes. As soon as he felt slightly more human again, he wandered down to the convenience store for a microwave burrito, which he scarfed down, only to throw it back up again less than five minutes later – vomiting and breathing seemed to be the only bodily functions he was still capable of performing. Afterwards, feeling bored, miserable and somewhat masochistic, he sat down and began to compile his own breakup mixtape for something to do; Baekhyun had occasionally joked about making one for him if they ever broke up for real.  
  
_But he didn’t hang around long enough to do that, did he?_  Chanyeol thought bitterly. It was a silly thing to feel cheated about, but he allowed himself that little indulgence anyway.  
  
He was in the middle of cutting  _[It’s All Been Done](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hm8yG8sBrIE)_  and  _[If You Leave Me Now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlKaVFqxERk)_  (one was too bittersweet, the other too imploring) when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Jongdae, sounding worried.  
  
“Hey. Just making sure you’re still alive.”  
  
“Yeah, just barely,” Chanyeol assured him. “What happened last night..?  
  
“You were in pretty bad shape, so I took you back to my place and put you to bed,” Jongdae said. He sounded faintly irritable now. “When I woke up, you were gone. You left the front door wide open, you ass. Were you born in a tent..?”  
  
Chanyeol rubbed his temple. “I don’t even remember coming home. I just assumed you’d escorted me here.”  
  
“You were probably still off your face when you wandered off. That’s the last time I take you out, man… you were a disaster.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol replied, trying to sound apologetic. “Thanks for taking care of me though.”  
  
“That’s alright… what are friends for? I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
  
“Yeah. See you,” Chanyeol replied, and hung up. He gave up on the mixtape idea and stumbled off to bed again, where he fell asleep to the sound of things too vague to mention, and too unsettling to forget.  
  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
_Chanyeol reads aloud from the sign above them. “ ‘Victory Pier: Open All Day – Every Day’…”  
  
“—Except today,” Baekhyun says drily. “Do you reckon anyone ever comes here..?” he asks, lowering his voice – for what reason, Chanyeol can’t tell, because there’s no one around to hear him anyway.  
  
“I doubt it. It's super creepy at night, but I like it. I like places that are challenging, I guess..”  
  
Chanyeol stops for a moment, his expression suddenly growing serious. He moves towards Baekhyun slowly, backing him up against the rattling red shutters, never breaking eye contact for a single second.  
  
Baekhyun says nothing, not with his mouth… but his eyes seem to dare Chanyeol to kiss him. Then they flicker down to Chanyeol’s lips, just for a second, before fluttering closed.  
  
Chanyeol closes his own eyes and leans forward._  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
Chanyeol awoke the next morning to the sound of waves… waves lapping against something solid, and the wind whistling in his ears. Furrowing his brows in confusion, he stirred and rolled over without opening his eyes, and his cheek rubbed against something hard and rough; the texture of weathered wood.  
  
Then there was the loud shriek of what sounded suspiciously like a seabird, coming from somewhere above. Chanyeol’s eyes snapped open. Blurred forms in white and sky-blue slowly came into focus, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes and surveying his surroundings.  
  
“Victory Pier..?” he whispered to himself. He was alone, and still in the same shorts and t-shirt he’d been wearing when he went to sleep. He couldn’t recall walking down to the pier… the last time he’d been there was with Baekhyun, back when they still used to go on morning jogs at the beach together. Victory Pier had closed down years ago; now it was nothing more than a deserted curiosity, a decaying skeleton of rusted filigree railings and flaking weatherboard. The only reminders of its glory days as a place of amusement were an empty gumball machine and a long-forgotten, coin-operated children’s ride in the form of a pirate ship, which probably didn’t work anymore.  
  
Chanyeol closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Somehow the feelings of isolation seemed at home here, where there was fresh sea air and the stillness was expected. Back in his apartment, it was hard to breathe in all the way. He could feel it suffocating him slowly, the stale air and man-made silence… but here he could breathe freely, and his mind felt much clearer.  
  
Incidentally, the pier was also where they’d shared their very first kiss, right after their very first dinner date. Now that he was here, Chanyeol remembered it even more vividly; how he’d pushed Baekhyun up against the roller doors beneath the faded sign at the entrance, gentle but insistent. He remembered the way Baekhyun had gone limp in his arms. He remembered his soft, sweet lips and his warm tongue and his sighs of satisfaction, his arms wrapped snugly around Chanyeol’s neck…  
  
Chanyeol opened his eyes again, the fantasy evaporating into thin air. He didn’t want to think about all that right now; the emotions were still too raw, too jagged at the edges. He looked down at his watch.  
  
6.30 am. He had to be at work in two hours.  
  
Sighing, he hauled himself to his feet and made his way home to change.  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
“Hey,” Jongdae greeted Chanyeol when he waltzed into the office – freshly showered and thankfully on time. “Rough night..?”  
  
Chanyeol leaned against the partition, pondering an appropriate response. He opened his mouth to mention where he’d woken up that morning, but then thought better of it; it would only mean having to explain things that he didn’t particularly care to explain.  
  
“Did I miss much yesterday?” he asked instead, and Jongdae shrugged, his eyes still glued to the email opened up on his screen.  
  
“Not really… we had a party for Joonmyun’s birthday. By ‘party’ I mean someone bought one of those convenience store mud-cakes with a yellow half-price sticker still stuck to the plastic lid. We found mould growing on the frosting. Poor bastard, he tried his hardest to look enthusiastic.”  
  
Chanyeol wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Gross..”  
  
“Well, you know what they say… when a man has everything, give him penicillin.”  
  
“God,” Chanyeol sighed, sinking down into his swivel chair. “Why is life so depressing..?”  
  
“You’ve just been dumped,” Jongdae reassured him from the other side of the wall. “You won’t feel that way forever.”  
  
“Thanks for the reminder,” Chanyeol muttered, and he knew that it was true... but when that time would come, he didn’t know. All he knew was that it seemed an awfully long way away.  
  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
_“Want a bite of mine..?”  
  
Baekhyun leans over to take a bite of Chanyeol’s burger, the combined juices from the meat and tomatoes dripping down his chin. He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his t-shirt.  
  
“Classy…” Chanyeol laughs. Baekhyun isn’t quite as refined as he looks most of the time, but he likes that about him. “Verdict?”  
  
“I don’t know if I’d call it the best burger I’ve ever had…” Baekhyun replies thoughtfully. “But it’s pretty good.”  
  
“Lies,” Chanyeol says, shaking his head in dismay. “Every single word a complete and utter falsehood..”  
  
Baekhyun shrugs, unmoved by Chanyeol’s teasing. “It’s just a preference… I like the Homer Junior better, that’s all. There’s less… stuff on it. Can I borrow your napkin? Mine blew away.”  
  
“No, you cannot borrow my napkin – I am currently making a list for you on this napkin,” Chanyeol replies sternly, scribbling something down onto the piece of tissue with a ballpoint pen. “A very important list..”  
  
Baekhyun looks at him blankly. “What kind of list?”  
  
“The top five parts of your body that I like to kiss the most,” Chanyeol says, his tongue poking out in concentration. He finishes the list and passes it over to Baekhyun, grinning widely.  
  
“Now don’t you wipe your mouth on that... I worked long and hard on it.”  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes and reads aloud from the napkin:  
  
**“My top 5 favourite parts to kiss on Baekhyun’s body, by Park Chanyeol, age 23 and a half:  
1\. Lips (always the winner)  
2\. Neck  
3\. Chest  
4\. Tummy  
5\. …”**  
  
Baekhyun looks up at Chanyeol with a puzzled expression. “Where’s number 5..?”  
  
Chanyeol gestures for Baekhyun to lean closer and whispers in his ear. When Baekhyun moves away again there is a visible flush colouring his cheeks.  
  
“You dirty bastard. I’d castrate you right now if the cutlery here wasn’t made of plastic…” he says, but he’s smiling._  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
The next morning, Chanyeol woke up to someone tapping him on the shoulder.  
  
“Hey… you're here early…”  
  
Chanyeol opened his eyes. He’d apparently been slumped at one of the green fiberglass tables outside Homer’s Burgers, and now the owner, Minseok, was staring at him worriedly. A seagull landed in front of them on the table.  
  
“Get out of it!” Minseok hissed, waving an arm to shoo it away.  
  
“I don't even know how I got here, to be frank...” Chanyeol told him groggily. “But since I  _am_  here, how about a breakfast burger with the lot, to go..?”  
  
Minseok nodded and rolled up the shutters of the kiosk. “Sure thing. One egg sunny side up?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
“Haven't seen you in a while. No more morning jogs with Baekhyun, huh..?”  
  
Chanyeol shook his head. They'd both been avid morning joggers once upon a time… it was how they'd met. Then the habit had fallen by the wayside, smothered by the comfortable complacency that often comes with any blossoming romance. So they jogged together less and less, and over time, piled on a few kilos apiece. Chanyeol personally liked Baekhyun even better after he’d filled out a bit more; he wasn’t sure how Baekhyun felt about  _his_  weight gain, but if he had a problem with it, he never said so.  
  
“Nah,” Chanyeol said at last. “We sort of broke up.”  
  
As soon as it came out of his mouth, he regretted it. Why did he even say that? It wasn't like Minseok needed to know the gory details of his private life.  
  
“Oh, damn,” Minseok replied, looking up from the grill. “You were such a sweet couple.”  
  
“Yeah,” Chanyeol shrugged. “I guess.”  
  
Minseok wrapped up the burger with deft hands and popped it into a brown paper bag. “I love how he used to wear one pink and one yellow shoe on each foot… I miss that. No one else around here does that.”  
  
“I know,” Chanyeol said quietly. “I miss it too.”  
  
“I’m sure you do. Come and get it while it’s hot.”  
  
Chanyeol nodded and walked over to the counter to pay. As soon as he was far away enough from the shop to be outside Minseok’s field of vision, he sat down at a public bench and unwrapped the burger. He pulled off the top bun, and beneath it he found about three times more bacon than usual.  
  
Chanyeol sighed and put the bun back in place. A pity burger – just what he needed.  
  
He quickly polished off half of the burger and left the rest of it on the bench for the birds before skulking off home.  
  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
  
_“What if someone sees us..?” Chanyeol asks. He’s tipsy, and so is Baekhyun – a bit too much wine with dinner, apparently. If the sea air is cold, then they’re too pickled to notice.  
  
“They won't,” Baekhyun reassures him. “No one walks beneath the pier this late at night.”  
  
“We do,” Chanyeol quite rightly points out.  
  
“Mmmhmm. Because we're deviants.”  
  
The funny thing about the two of them being drunk is the role-reversal that inevitably occurs – it always seems like booze turns Chanyeol into the voice of reason, and Baekhyun into a risk-taking delinquent with a penchant for indecent exposure.  
  
“I think I've got sand in my pants,” Chanyeol whispers solemnly.  
  
Baekhyun giggles and grabs him by the collar, pulling him closer – so close Chanyeol can smell the wine on his breath. “Speaking of pants, why aren't you undressing me right now..?”  
  
“Don't you have your own two beautiful hands to do that?” Chanyeol says, taking the hands in question and tenderly kissing each finger.  
  
Baekhyun leans forward, pressing open-mouthed, hungry kisses over Chanyeol’s neck. “I like it better when you do it,” he whispers. “It really turns me on..”  
  
“What if the vibrations from our torrid lovemaking session cause this rickety old pier to collapse on us?”  
  
“I don't care,” Baekhyun replies, the words muffled against Chanyeol’s skin. “I want you..”  
  
“Well then… what if a tidal wave comes all of a sudden and washes us away..?”  
  
“Then I'll climb on top of you and use your naked body as a raft,” Baekhyun sighs impatiently.  
  
Chanyeol can’t help grinning at that. “You'll ride the waves on me, huh?”  
  
“Uh-huh. I'll ride you all the way to shore and give you the kiss of life. Are you satisfied now..?”  
  
Chanyeol nods. “I think so.”  
  
“Good. So satisfy  **me** , then..”  
  
Baekhyun grabs Chanyeol’s hand and gives his index finger a little kiss before taking it between his lips, sucking it slowly from base to tip. He gets a bit of sand in his mouth and makes a disgusted face, leaning aside to spit it out.  
  
Chanyeol has to laugh in spite of himself; Baekhyun tries a little too hard to be sexy when he’s drunk. He doesn't even need to try; never has, never will.  
  
“You're filthy sometimes, babe,” he says, transferring his attention to the row of pearlescent buttons on the front of Baekhyun’s shirt, shiny and inviting and just begging to be popped. “But I think I like it..”  
  
Baekhyun watches in silence while Chanyeol undoes each button, slowly and carefully sliding the smooth cotton garment down over his arms. He rolls his head back against the pillar behind him and moans softly when Chanyeol’s thumbs brush against the bare skin of his shoulders. When it becomes too much to bear he impatiently yanks his arms out of the sleeves, and Chanyeol smiles, biting his lip in an effort to hide it. He sheds his own shirt, casting it aside carelessly onto the sand, the cool breeze caressing his body and making him shiver pleasantly.  
  
“Touch me,” Baekhyun whispers, pulling Chanyeol closer to kiss him, his hands roaming over his back, through his hair, anywhere and everywhere within reach.  
  
“You're beautiful… so beautiful,” Chanyeol whispers back, again and again, losing entire syllables in Baekhyun's mouth; he fills in the blanks with his hands instead, tracing words of love all over Baekhyun’s body. Laying Baekhyun down upon the sand, he kisses him all over, tasting the salt from the sea air on his skin, marveling at the way he seems to glow in the moonlight.  
  
“So beautiful,” Chanyeol whispers again, fumbling with the zip on Baekhyun’s trousers. His hands tremble with anticipation. “Fuck… I can’t even stand it...”  
  
“Chanyeol..” Baekhyun sighs. “Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol...”_  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
_Chanyeol._  
  
Chanyeol opened his eyes, one at a time.  
  
This time he lay with his head propped up against the concrete seawall where it ran beneath the pier, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his fly halfway unzipped. He quickly zipped it up, his eyes darting around in search of anyone nearby.  
  
He slowly and painfully sat himself upright, shaking his head to remove any stray grains of sand. After a minute or two, a couple of morning joggers ran beneath the pier, shooting him pitying glances on their way past – a man and a woman. Both of them wore white trainers.  
  
Chanyeol closed his eyes and collapsed against the wall again in defeat. He could still taste Baekhyun on his lips. Everything about Baekhyun was too much… too much. Far too much for him to handle.  
  
“Baekhyun...” he whispered to no one, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. “Baby, why do you torture me so..?”  
  
He lifted his arm to check his watch and groaned. He’d have to run today, if he wanted to be at work on time.  
  
_Perhaps I should take up jogging again_ , he thought as he stood up and dusted the sand from his clothes, but it was just that – a passing thought, and nothing more.  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
Chanyeol couldn’t find the energy to run home before work, so he went there dressed the way he was, still in yesterday’s clothes. He doubted anyone would notice anyway; they hardly ever looked up from their computers even when he was abnormally late.  
  
Jongdae popped his head over the cubicle wall as soon as Chanyeol sat down in his chair. “Morning. Um… are you okay..?”  
  
Chanyeol shook his head – there was no point lying to Jongdae; he wasn’t thick enough. “I woke up down at the beach this morning.”  
  
Jongdae frowned at him, raising an eyebrow. “I know you’re still grieving and all, but I think we’ve established that booze and sad Chanyeol are not a good mix..”  
  
_I wasn’t drinking… I was sleepwalking_ , Chanyeol wanted to say, but he didn’t. He had a hard enough time believing it himself anymore.

 

 

* * * * *

 

Chanyeol collapsed onto the couch with a sigh of relief and patted the armrest affectionately, glad to be home at the end of the longest week of his life.  
  
“Good old  _Ektorp_ ,” he whispered; that was the couch's name. Not because either of them had named it – Ikea had called first dibs on naming rights – but for some reason, Baekhyun had taken a shine to the name back when they’d bought the couch together, and so it had stuck. Afterwards they developed a habit of referring to articles of furniture by their product names instead of their actual names; it was something of a personal joke.  
  
Chanyeol leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, just for a moment. He was tired… so tired. He'd never been tired right down to his bones before.  
  
He didn’t want to throw his sleep cycle even more out of whack, so he’d just sleep for ten minutes.  
  
Yes, ten minutes… that was all.  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
_“Sir,” the man in the yellow polo shirt whispers sternly. “Sir, would you kindly get off the display bed please..?”  
  
“Oops.” Chanyeol tries to suppress a giggle as he gets to his feet, but it comes out as an embarrassing snort instead. “Sorry…”  
  
Baekhyun shakes his head and grabs Chanyeol by the hand, pulling him towards the bedroom display in the next room.  
  
“Ooh, I like this one,” he says, clearly impressed. “Check out that snazzy bed..”  
  
Chanyeol isn’t quite so convinced. “That bedframe looks a little flimsy,” he observes, frowning. “One night of rough lovin’ and we'd probably break it.”  
  
Baekhyun whacks him on the arm in protest. His cheeks are a little flushed, but he's smiling anyway. Chanyeol wanders through the next doorway into the fake ensuite and lifts up the lid of the toilet, peering inside.  
  
“Why do all these toilets have bits of plastic inside them?”  
  
“To stop people using them, you fool.”  
  
“But… why would anyone try to poo in the middle of Ikea..?”  
  
“Dunno. It kind of sounds like something you would do..” Baekhyun replies airily, and he ventures over to the next room with Chanyeol following closely behind.  
  
“Oh, I fucking love this couch,” Baekhyun exclaims, collapsing onto a plush navy-blue sofa and bouncing up and down. “I want it – what's its name?”  
  
Chanyeol picks up the swing-tag attached to the couch and examines it closely. “It’s called ‘Ektorp’, apparently..”  
  
“It’s settled – I love him,” Baekhyun declares. “We’re taking Ektorp home.”  
  
“ ‘Him’? What makes you so sure it’s a him..?”  
  
Baekhyun shrugs. “I don't know... Ektorp just seems more like a masculine name.”  
  
Chanyeol groans and rolls his eyes. “Please, Baek… don't humanise the couch.”  
  
  
“Why?” Baekhyun asks, blinking up at him with innocent eyes.  
  
“Because then we can't do the dirty on it. I'd feel bad.”  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes begin to narrow until they almost disappear completely. “So the whole time I've been imagining all this furniture in our new place, you've been thinking about doing me on it – is that right..?”  
  
“Well, yeah… what else is furniture for..?” Chanyeol replies casually. Baekhyun throws a matching navy cushion at him in place of a response, and he thankfully ducks just in time._  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
“Sir. Wake up, sir.”  
  
Someone was shaking Chanyeol roughly. “Wha..? Go ‘way,” he groaned, rolling over to face the other direction.  
  
“Sir, I'm afraid you can't sleep here,” said the voice – female, and with a trace of irritation this time. “We’re opening up the store now.”  
  
Chanyeol immediately opened his eyes and lifted his head a fraction, blinking repeatedly until his vision cleared. A girl in a yellow shirt was kneeling next to him on the concrete tiles, looking concerned. He stared back at her for a moment before turning his head, only to discover window displays full of furniture and four very large, very familiar yellow letters stuck to the blue wall above the door.  
  
Chanyeol sighed and nodded and offered no further resistance, holding out his hand for the Ikea employee ('Areum', her nametag read) to help him up. “Sorry – big night,” he told Areum by way of explanation. He figured he could use that excuse now; on a Saturday morning, at least, it didn’t sound quite as bad.  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
Chanyeol had barely fallen into bed, intent on finally getting some proper sleep, when the buzzer rang. He fell all over himself on his way to the intercom and pressed the speaker button.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Yoohoo, guess who!”  
  
Chanyeol’s heart sank into his stomach. “ _Ma?_  What are you doing here…?”  
  
Mrs. Park sounded a little miffed at that. “Gosh, don’t sound so excited to see me… do I need a reason to visit my only baby..?”  
  
“No,” Chanyeol sighed, “of course not. Come on up.” He hurried around the apartment, snatching up any evidence of his suffering mental state and tossing it into the hallway closet mere seconds before he heard a knock at the door. He counted to three before he pulled it open, leaning against the doorframe and trying to look as normal as possible.  
  
Mrs. Park pulled Chanyeol into a suffocating hug and bustled past him into the living room, her diminutive frame weighed down by paper bags full of groceries. “Where’s Baekhyun..?” she asked, looking around.  
  
Chanyeol scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Ah… he, uh… he moved out. We kind of had a disagreement.”  
  
“Oh,” Mrs. Park replied, nodding in understanding. “But… he was such a nice boy. You two seemed like really good friends..”  
  
“Yeah. I guess we weren’t as good friends as I thought.”  
  
“Oh, well… that’s sad, but it happens, I suppose,” Mrs. Park replied, putting the groceries down on the coffee table. “You don’t look well today, love. Is there anything you want to talk to me about? Have you eaten? Can I make something for you..?”  
  
Chanyeol opened his mouth, ready to tell his mother about his recent sleeping misadventures, but quickly decided against it. It was just one more thing he didn’t need her worrying about; she’d probably be here all the time if she knew, fussing over him needlessly.  
  
Or worse, she might try to move in. Chanyeol nearly went white at the thought.  
  
Then he heard the sound of the front door being unlocked, and Baekhyun walked into the living room, pausing when he saw them both standing there.  
  
“Oh… hi,” he said slowly, his eyes darting between Chanyeol and his mother. There were dark circles beneath those eyes, Chanyeol noticed. “I’m, uh… just here to pick up some more of my stuff.”  
  
“Hello Baekhyun,” Mrs. Park greeted him warmly, her hands clasped together graciously in front of her. “How are you?”  
  
Baekhyun nodded. “I’m good thanks, Mrs. Park. And you..?”  
  
Chanyeol didn’t say anything; he just looked at Baekhyun, who tried to avoid looking at him by looking at Mrs. Park instead. Mrs. Park looked from one boy to the other, her expression softening.  
  
“Listen, boys, whatever’s going on between you, I’m sure you can work it out together,” she said gently. “Is it really worth throwing away your friendship..?”  
  
Baekhyun looked at her for a moment, his posture stiffening visibly. His lips pressed themselves into a thin pink line.  
  
“I was your son’s boyfriend, Mrs. Park,” he said quietly. “Not his friend. Not his roommate… his partner. We’d been dating for a year, and living together for six months. But I bet he never told you that, did he..?”  
  
Having said this, Baekhyun turned on his heel and stormed back towards the front door, pulling it shut behind him.  
  
“Baekhyun, wait..” Chanyeol cried out, hurrying after him; he didn’t want to turn back and see the expression on his mother’s face. He would have to deal with that later.  
  
Baekhyun turned around in the corridor and looked back at Chanyeol expectantly.  
  
“What the hell was that..?” Chanyeol asked, gesturing towards the apartment door behind him.  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes flashed with guilt, but only for a moment. His arms hung helplessly by his sides. “I’m sorry. It just… came out...”  
  
“Well, so did I, apparently,” Chanyeol replied irritably. “Didn’t go  _quite_  as planned..”  
  
“I’d better go,” Baekhyun said, turning away from him again. “I’ll come back for my stuff another day, when you’re not entertaining. Don’t worry, I’ll call next time.”  
  
“Baekhyun, please… she  _knows_  now. There’s no need for you to go anywhere anymore.”  
  
“She only knows because  _I_  told her,” Baekhyun cried. He slowly turned around to face Chanyeol once more, his hands clenched tightly into fists. “That wasn’t  _my_  job, Chanyeol.  _You_  should have told her, she’s  _your_  mother..”  
  
“Baek, we’ve done this whole fighting thing enough times before. I don’t see why we can’t survive it one more time.”  
  
“What’s the point?” Baekhyun said quietly. He looked so small and defeated that it broke Chanyeol’s heart. “You’re ashamed of me. You always have been.”  
  
“I’m not ashamed of you. I was just—” Chanyeol paused for a moment, pulling at his hair in exasperation. “You don’t understand – she’s all I’ve got. I didn’t want to break her heart. I couldn’t do it..”  
  
“What about  _me?_ ” Baekhyun shot back, “what about  _my_  heart? What did you think you were going to do – marry some girl and have kids and live unhappily ever after, just to appease your mother? Why drag me into your life in the first place, if you were never in this for the long haul?”  
  
Chanyeol shook his head. “I was… I love you. I would  _never_  lie about loving you. I was just scared.”  
  
“I had to come out too, you know – to  _two_  parents, not just one,” Baekhyun said, thrusting two fingers under Chanyeol’s nose to make his point. “And I’m sure your mother’s a more accepting person than they are, so don’t you tell me your life is so hard.”  
  
“I’m not asking for sympathy, Baek… just a shred of understanding. It was never about you. It was about her.”  
  
Baekhyun nodded and leaned forward to jab the elevator button with his thumb. Several heavy seconds passed before the bell sounded and the steel doors slid open in front of him.  
  
“No… you’re right. It was never about me,” he said quietly, stepping inside the elevator, and he closed the doors before Chanyeol had a chance to reply.  
  
Chanyeol sighed heavily and headed back to the apartment. When he entered the living room he found his mother perched upon the couch, staring blankly at the rug (‘ _Alslev_ ’, Ikea, $19.99). He cleared his throat loudly to attract her attention, but she didn’t look up.  
  
“So… if I tried to convince you that he was actually a girl, would you believe me, or would that be misguided..?” he said at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  
  
“He's almost pretty enough…” Mrs. Park replied flatly. Her eyes were still fixed to the floor.  
  
Chanyeol sighed and flopped down next to her on the couch.  
  
“Well, there it is – I guess I’m gay,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “Penny for your thoughts..?”  
  
Mrs. Park chewed her lip for a moment, lost in thought, and then turned to face him.  
  
“It's going to take a lot of getting used to,” she said at last. “I don't know how to feel right now..”  
  
“Are you mad?” Chanyeol asked quietly.  
  
Mrs. Park shrugged. “I think I'm more bothered by the fact that you hid it from me all this time. How long did you think you could keep that up..?”  
  
“Well, forever was the original plan..” Chanyeol tried to joke. As expected, it fell flat.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking his mother’s hand in his own. “I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me. You’re all I’ve got, and I know I’m all  _you’ve_  got, and… I just couldn’t bring myself to do that to you.” Her hands had a few more wrinkles than he remembered them having before, but they were still as soft and gentle as they’d ever been. They were her hands, and holding them didn’t remind Chanyeol of holding anyone else’s. That could only be a good thing.  
  
Mrs. Park squeezed Chanyeol’s hand and turned towards him, offering him a weak smile.  
  
“Chanyeol… it may take a good while to come to terms with you dashing my dreams of ever seeing any grandchildren, or a wedding…” she said, “but I couldn't love you any less – even if you killed a man. So I think I can get over you being in love with one. Just… give me time.”  
  
Chanyeol nodded and leaned his head against her shoulder. “I love you, you know,” he said with a sigh. “And thank you.”  
  
“I love you too,” his mother replied, “but please – don't actually kill anyone.”  
  
Chanyeol laughed in spite of himself. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
When Chanyeol woke up in his own bed the next morning (well, hanging halfway out of it, anyway), he was flooded with relief. Maybe getting everything out in the open with his mother had helped somehow… he certainly felt a lot freer.  
  
He had nothing else to do with his day off, so he walked down to the beach and sat himself down on the seawall, looking out at the ocean before him, its surface as calm and flat as glass. There weren’t many people around, but it wasn’t lonely; instead, Chanyeol felt more at peace than he’d felt all week.  
  
Or maybe he was just so numb by now that he couldn’t tell the difference.  
  
Either way, he was grateful.  
  
He’d let himself float with the current, he figured, and see where this whole ‘change of scenery’ thing could take him. There was no point trying to control the situation anymore; there was nothing more he could do. He could read a whole library of relationship books and try to self-diagnose what was wrong with him as a partner; to tell himself it was something he could have helped, something he could fix… but those weren’t healthy, moving-on thoughts. Baekhyun had made it clear that he didn’t want Chanyeol back, and if that meant he was happy then Chanyeol knew he would be okay with it one day.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
“Hey…”  
  
Chanyeol looked up in surprise, his thoughts scattering in all directions. Baekhyun stood there before him, wearing a tight white tank and those little black shorts that made his already-amazing bum look extra amazing. Chanyeol’s gaze travelled down a little further; one of Baekhyun’s trainers was green, the other purple.  
  
Chanyeol pinched himself on the thigh discreetly, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He winced at the sharp pain. Nope, definitely not dreaming.  
  
“Hey yourself,” he said at last. “What are you doing here..?”  
  
“I've been coming down here quite a bit over the past week,” Baekhyun replied, taking a swig from his water bottle. “I’ve started jogging again… the ocean air helps clear my head.”  
  
Chanyeol nodded. “Cool. New shoes..?”  
  
Baekhyun smiled weakly. “Yeah. I needed a fresh start, I guess. I’m sorry, it didn't occur to me that I might bump into you here...”  
  
“Oh,” Chanyeol replied, and he moved to get up. “Well, I can go, if you want..”  
  
“No, don't be silly,” Baekhyun said quickly. He seated himself next to Chanyeol, pulling him back down by the wrist. “Stay. You were here first, anyway.”  
  
Chanyeol nodded in agreement and slowly lowered himself down on the edge of the wall.  
  
“So. How are you?” Baekhyun asked, breaking the silence.  
  
_I was alright until you showed up_ , Chanyeol wanted to say.  
  
“Okay, I guess,” was what he said instead. “You..?”  
  
Baekhyun shrugged. “Yeah. I'm alright. I've been better.”  
  
“Still at Kyungsoo's?”  
  
“Yeah,” Baekhyun replied, laughing through his nose – the kind of sound you make when something isn’t actually funny. “He's driving me mad… he went off at me this morning for leaving my toothbrush next to the sink. And he has every right to be particular; it's  _his_  apartment, but... I just need to get out of there, I think.”  
  
“Mmm,” was all Chanyeol could find to say.  
  
_You could come back to me_ , he wanted to add.  _I don't care where you leave your toothbrush…_  
  
“Speaking of Kyungsoo, he wants to kill you, you know… after that stunt you pulled last night..” Baekhyun piped up. There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it faltered a little towards the end of the sentence.  
  
Chanyeol turned to look at him, perplexed. “What stunt..?”  
  
“Don't play dumb, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun sighed. “I kind of hoped we were past that.”  
  
Chanyeol leaned forward, burying his head in his hands. “Oh man. What did I do..?”  
  
He heard Baekhyun take another gulp from his water bottle, swallowing loudly, and then he was quiet for a while. Chanyeol was tempted to lift his head again, but he didn’t.  
  
“You kept buzzing Kyungsoo’s apartment in the middle of the night,” Baekhyun said at last. His voice was quiet. “You were crying out  _‘tell me you don't love me’_ , over and over through the speaker. He had to call security to escort you away from the building.”  
  
Chanyeol lifted his head, looking at Baekhyun in horror. “Fuck… I’m so sorry..”  
  
“You really don't remember?” Baekhyun asked. He appeared to be searching Chanyeol’s expression for signs of honesty. “Were you drunk..?”  
  
Chanyeol shook his head. “No, I... lately I've been waking up in places other than my own bed. Like, outside the apartment, I mean. And I can never remember how I got there.”  
  
“You mean… you’ve been sleepwalking?” Baekhyun frowned. “I've never noticed you sleepwalking before...”  
  
Chanyeol sighed. “Yeah. I don't know what to do... to tell the truth, I haven't been able to sleep properly since you left… it's like a nightmare I can't wake up from. And I thought I was finally getting somewhere because I woke up in my own bed this morning, but… apparently I was wrong.”  
  
“Have you seen Dr. Zhang about it?” Baekhyun asked.  
  
Chanyeol shook his head. “Not yet. I was hoping it would go away on its own.”  
  
“Well, you should. I’m sure it’s treatable..”  
  
“I’ll give him a call tomorrow, see if he can fit me in.”  
  
Baekhyun nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and they both looked out to sea for a while in silence. Far from being awkward, it felt strangely comfortable.  
  
“I’m sorry I outed you to your mother,” Baekhyun said, breaking the quiet at last. “That was really out of line.”  
  
Chanyeol shrugged. “It’s okay. She had to find out sometime.”  
  
“Yeah, but… not like that. Not from someone else..”  
  
“I put off telling her for so long,” Chanyeol said thoughtfully, watching a pair of seagulls fighting each other for a lone chip on the sand below. “I was waiting until I was ‘truly ready’. Now I realise that there probably never would have been a time when I was ready; in my head, it seemed so much more horrible than it really was. But I just want to make sure you understand that I was never ashamed of you, at all. I was scared. Every time I fuck things up, it's because of fear – fear of disappointing or even losing someone I love. And I feel like I can’t win… no matter what I do or don’t do, someone important to me gets hurt.”  
  
“Chanyeol, it's okay,” Baekhyun said gently. “I've forgiven you.”  
  
Chanyeol looked at him in surprise. “Really..?”  
  
Baekhyun nodded. “I think I’d already forgiven you before I even moved out, to be honest, but I didn't fully realise it until last night. I could hear the agony in your voice, loud and clear through the speaker, and I knew that it was real. Every word was like a knife to the heart, it was so distressing... and I was so close to caving in and running down to you, but Kyungsoo wouldn’t let me. Like the weakling I’ve become, I let you get dragged away. And I hated myself for that, because  _I’m_  the one who walks away, and it’s always by choice. I’m the one who gives up, Chanyeol. It's never been you.”  
  
Chanyeol didn’t know what to say to that… so he said nothing.  
  
“So yeah… you hurt me, and it’s not the first time,” Baekhyun continued, his voice wavering a little. “But you’ve never done anything we couldn't get past. And I know that whenever I hurt you, no matter how badly, you always seem to shrug it off without a moment’s hesitation. So yes, Chanyeol, I forgive you. And I hope you’ll forgive me too.”  
  
Baekhyun reached across to grab Chanyeol’s hand for a moment, giving it a quick squeeze before gradually getting to his feet.  
  
“Anyway... I think it's time to go…” he said, stretching his arms out above his head.  
  
Chanyeol nodded slowly, but he didn’t reply. He kept his eyes trained on the horizon to avoid meeting Baekhyun’s, the disappointment a slow burn inside his chest.  
  
“Baekhyun.”  
  
“Yes, Chanyeol.”  
  
“I’ve been sleeping with one of your old t-shirts wrapped around my pillow every night. I hold it in my arms, and I try my hardest to convince myself that it's you,” Chanyeol said quietly, and then he laughed a little. “That's pathetic, isn't it..?”  
  
Baekhyun chuckled softly. “Not at all. It's really sweet.”  
  
“I just... I thought I was going to be okay, until I saw you again this morning. And now I’m not okay again. And I miss you – desperately..”  
  
“I know,” Baekhyun said simply. “Now, are you coming, or what?”  
  
Chanyeol lifted his head slowly to look up at Baekhyun. Baekhyun only looked back at him in silence, his face expressionless. As usual, he offered no explanations; he simply held out his hand to help Chanyeol up.  
  
Too astonished to speak, Chanyeol let Baekhyun walk a few steps ahead of him along the promenade, his eyes trained to the back of his head. Baekhyun didn’t look back once to check if he was still following. Perhaps he thought it was a given.  
  
_He must think I’m so whipped_ , Chanyeol thought.  _He knows I’ll be right behind him like the dumb puppy I am._  
  
Before he had a chance to rethink his choices, Chanyeol grabbed Baekhyun by the wrist and pulled him back the way they came, in the direction of the pier.  
  
“Chanyeol—!” Baekhyun began, but Chanyeol didn’t pay any attention to his protests. As soon as they arrived at the entrance to the pier he gently let go of Baekhyun’s hand, and they both looked up at the faded letters in silence.  
  
“Victory Pier,” Chanyeol read aloud. “Open all day – every day.”  
  
“…Except today,” Baekhyun replied. Chanyeol could hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him.  
  
“That’s exactly what you said back then,” he said, and Baekhyun laughed.  
  
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that history repeats..?”  
  
Chanyeol nodded. “It can. But it doesn't have to.”  
  
“Well, what about that time when you pushed me up against these doors right here, and kissed me until I was breathless..?” Baekhyun said quietly, taking Chanyeol by the hand and leading him towards the red shutters. He turned around with his back against the corrugated metal, and there was a shyness in his eyes, an innocent uncertainty that made Chanyeol’s heart flutter. “Could we repeat that, do you think..?”  
  
“Yes,” Chanyeol smiled. “I was actually hoping we could repeat it right now. That’s why I dragged you here.”  
  
Baekhyun nodded and breathed in deeply. “Okay,” he said, and he pulled Chanyeol’s head down until their lips touched. The kiss felt different this time; there were no past kisses that Chanyeol could compare it to, and he was okay with that. But when he finally pulled away, that look in Baekhyun’s eyes hadn’t changed.  
  
“I'd forgotten about that look,” he whispered, gently touching Baekhyun’s face with one hand.  
  
“What look?”  
  
Chanyeol smiled. “The one you get where I can tell you're undressing me with your eyes..”  
  
Baekhyun tried to keep a straight face and failed miserably.  
  
“I knew it..!”  
  
“I'm human, Chanyeol. I have desires like everyone else. Is that a crime?”  
  
“No, not at all… I've really missed it,” Chanyeol replied. He kissed Baekhyun again, coaxing the other boy’s lips open with his tongue to remind himself how sweet they tasted, until he realised he’d never forgotten in the first place.  
  
“Whatever you want, I'll give it to you,” he whispered between each kiss. “I’ll give it to you..”  
  
_I really am whipped._  
  
“Good,” Baekhyun whispered back. “Then take me home.”  
  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
When they went to bed that night, Baekhyun was distant for a while. Chanyeol didn’t want to push him, so he lay still and closed his eyes, sighing contentedly.  
  
After several minutes he felt the weight shifting on the mattress as Baekhyun rolled closer to him.  
  
“Hey,” Baekhyun whispered. “Are you asleep…?  
  
Chanyeol smiled, but kept his eyes firmly shut. “Yes.”  
  
Baekhyun whacked him on the shoulder. “Idiot..”  
  
“Why do you ask..?”  
  
“Because,” Baekhyun said shyly, “I was going to ask… if you wanted to kiss for a bit.”  
  
Chanyeol laughed and rolled over to face him. “Since when did you start needing permission to kiss me..?”  
  
“I wasn't sure if you felt like it, that’s all…” Baekhyun mumbled, and Chanyeol wrapped one arm around his waist to pull him closer.  
  
“In what tiny, non-existent speck of the universe would I not want to kiss you..?”  
  
“Okay, okay… point taken..” Baekhyun laughed. Chanyeol smiled and kissed him softly on the lips, finishing with a little peck on the tip of his nose.  
  
“What if you sleepwalk tonight?” Baekhyun asked, his tone suddenly serious. “Shouldn't we lock the bedroom door..?”  
  
“Nah, that won’t work – I’ll just unlock it. But I think I'll be okay tonight… and tomorrow I’ll go to the doctor, I promise. Now don’t worry, babe; just go to sleep.”  
  
“It’s a good excuse for me to tie you to the bed,” Baekhyun purred in Chanyeol’s ear. Chanyeol turned his head and kissed him quickly, catching him by surprise.  
  
“There’s no need,” he whispered, grabbing Baekhyun’s hands and holding them in position around his waist. “Just hold me tight; I won't go anywhere.”  
  
“Okay,” Baekhyun whispered back, and they kissed for a while longer until they both fell asleep.  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
_“Hey there,” Chanyeol called out before he could stop himself. “Nice shoes.”  
  
The boy with the odd-coloured shoes looked up from where he was stretching against the seawall. He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Uh… thanks..?”  
  
Fuck me, Chanyeol thought. He’s gorgeous.  
  
“Why the different colours, though?” he asked casually. He took a swig of water from his bottle and poured a generous amount of it over his head until his pale yellow tank was semi-transparent. It was a cheap trick, to be sure, but he could tell from the way the boy swallowed audibly that it was effective.  
  
“I, uh… I have trouble making decisions in the morning…” the boy replied, his eyes still glued to Chanyeol’s body. He shook his head quickly and looked away.  
  
Chanyeol grinned widely. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually flirt with other joggers during my morning run, but you’re really fucking cute. What’s your name..?”  
  
“Baekhyun,” said the boy hesitantly. “And you?”  
  
“Chanyeol,” Chanyeol replied with a polite bow of his head. “Baekhyun, I know you’ve just finished warming down and all, but I think I’d like to challenge you to a race towards the pier.”  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes widened. “Oh really..?”  
  
“Uh-huh. If I lose, I have to buy you breakfast.”  
  
“And if you win..?” Baekhyun asked.  
  
Chanyeol shrugged. “Then I still get to buy you breakfast. One’s an obligation; the other’s a choice. Either way, it’d be my pleasure.”  
  
Baekhyun pondered this for a moment – a long moment; so long it would have made Chanyeol sweat a little, if he wasn’t sweating already.  
  
“Hmm. Okay – you’re on,” he finally agreed, flashing Chanyeol a hint of a mischievous smile. Then he pulled his white t-shirt over his head in one swift movement, tossing it onto the grass, and Chanyeol nearly swallowed his tongue.  
  
“Alright, Chanyeol,” he said, still smiling. “Let's see if you can keep up.”_  
  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
When Chanyeol woke up on Monday morning, he was lying on the floor, positioned halfway through the open door of their bedroom. He lifted his head, confused, and looked down. Baekhyun was there with him, his arms still wrapped around Chanyeol’s waist, sleeping soundly with his head nestled against his chest.

  
  
Chanyeol smiled and looked over at the alarm clock next to the bed. Only 6.15am.

  
  
“We'll get there,” he whispered, wrapping one arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders and tenderly kissing the top of the sleeping boy’s head. He lay back and closed his eyes.

 

 

 

______________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 


End file.
